


Hunt the Hart

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: Straight down the rabbit hole [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Celebrimbor Goes Full Weatherwax But No One Gets His References, Celebrimbor Wins (Or Loses), Established Relationship, Furniture Breaks, M/M, Nudity Occurs, PWP, Strip Poker, Tyeldisaster, Uncle-Nephew incest, not necessarily in that order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: Celebrimbor stretched ostentatiously, making it evident that his well-formed arms, chest, and everything else, for that matter, were fully clothed. It was an uncharacteristically cocky gesture, but both people in the room were well aware he’d been exposed to a bad influence. Across the table from him, Celegorm folded his arms and arranged the bit of cloth that was all that preserved his modesty.It was, it had to be said, rather insufficient.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Innovation in Form](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8428549) by [thegreatpumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/pseuds/thegreatpumpkin). 



> I was inspired by a line in thegreatpumkin’s _excellent fic_ that referenced Celebrimbor learning strip poker from his uncle in Nargothrond. Of course, I immediately went Disaster with it.
> 
> This is for her, and also elfbones, who has been making sure I never get over this ship. Thanks, man.

 

It had been snowing for three days.

Finduilas and Orodreth had escaped right before the storm on a venture to Doriath and Galadriel, and were not expected back for months (Celegorm had made a joke about how easy it was to get snagged in a girdle and Finrod had sighed and tried to suppress a smile all at once.) Then the snow set in, and all of Nargothrond seemed to yawn and still and settle.

Curufin shut himself up in his quarters and tolerated no interruption. The king pled a pressure headache and had not been seen since the snow began.

And Celegorm had cabin fever.

Celebrimbor, who was perfectly happy to spend his own days in a fire-lit room bent over a particularly challenging puzzle, nevertheless did not mind his uncle pacing in and out and upsetting things on his workbench. Any company was good, and Celegorm, at least, was warm.

“I’m going to teach you a game,” he announced unexpectedly on the fourth day of snow, and Celebrimbor looked up from his puzzle. His uncle was holding a deck of cards and a skin of wine, and Celebrimbor quickly replayed the sentence in his head to see if Celegorm had spoken the word ‘game’ with an insinuating capital letter.

But Celegorm had always cared little for nuance, and his pronunciation proved un-illuminating.

“What kind of game?” asked Celebrimbor cautiously, but not without curiosity. History had demonstrated that he enjoyed the things Celegorm taught him, and he shifted in his seat, unconsciously undoing the top button of his shirt.

Celegorm grinned at him, and Celebrimbor felt as warm as if the dwindling fire had roared back to life. “Hunt the Hart,” he said, and Celebrimbor’s fingers fluttered at the open neck of his tunic. Celegorm’s eyes sparkled at the sight, bright as amber in the firelight. “With a _twist._ ”

 

* * *

 

Some minutes later, Celebrimbor’s fingers were knotted in his collar again, but this time it was as a distracted fidget while his eyes flickered over the cards and he mumbled under his breath.

Celegorm had finished his explanation and leaned back, putting his boots up on Celebrimbor’s chair so that his feet framed Celebrimbor’s thighs. “What do you think?”

“So it’s a gambling game,” said Celebrimbor. “Is there a reason you wager clothes instead of coin?”

“I have all the coin I need. But the bare skin of a handsome lad…”

“I’d think you have enough of that, too,” murmured Celebrimbor, examining the runes and rough pictures on the cards. He picked one up to look more closely. “Did you letter these yourself?”

“Yes,” said Celegorm, still reclining as he poured them wine from the skin into the goblets held haphazardly in one hand. A dribble escaped the lip of one and drew a scarlet line along his wrist. “Despite what my brother likes to insinuate when he’s peeved at me, I am in fact literate.”

“I know,” said Celebrimbor. “You left me a note under my pillow that one time.” Usually his cheeks would have pinked at the memory – literacy aside, the note had employed a vocabulary not taught in most texts – but he was still focused on the cards.

“I’ve written you more than one note,” said Celegorm, grinning. “How about that one I left under your anvil last week, hey?”

“What one under my anvil?” Celebrimbor’s brows knitted and he looked up. “I never got a note there.”

“Hmm,” said Celegorm, but he didn’t look particularly concerned. “Perhaps it was the wrong anvil.”

“Celegorm!” Celebrimbor dropped the cards, alarmed and momentarily distracted. “The forge is hardly private. What if – What if someone – ”

“It won’t matter,” said Celegorm, shrugging. “I used no names.”

“But he might assume – ”

“He won’t,” said Celegorm firmly. “Now are we going to play or not?”

 

* * *

 

Celebrimbor stared intently at his cards. Then he stared intently at his uncle.

“You seem to be losing,” he observed.

Celegorm narrowed his eyes at him. “I did not expect you to get a triple doe on your first hand.”

“Why would you? It’s all luck and statistics, I’m not _un_ likely to get it my first hand either.” Celebrimbor hummed and stuck a finger in his ear while he ruminated. “You say a chase of predators beats a house of prey?”

Celegorm heaved a sigh. “Yes, unless there is a white… hare.” He looked at the cards Celebrimbor had laid down. “Would you look at that.”

“Have I crippled Mr. Onion?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Celebrimbor reshuffled the deck while Celegorm pulled his shirt over his head and let it join his tunic on the floor.

“You trying to get me out of my clothes, boy?”

“No,” said Celebrimbor, dealing the cards. “Beating the pants off you is just a side-benefit to beating you in the first place.” He grinned, pleased with his wordplay.

“The true side-benefit is seeing you smile like that,” said Celegorm, and when Celebrimbor looked up at the odd note in his voice, Celegorm diffused it with a wink. “Right, next hand.”

“Next hand,” said Celebrimbor, and as he sorted his cards he began to hum again, just slightly off-key.

 

* * *

 

Outside, the snow fell on. Inside, the fire snapped and popped and sent shadows flickering on Celegorm’s bare chest.

Celebrimbor stretched ostentatiously, making it evident that his well-formed arms, chest, and everything else, for that matter, were fully clothed. It was an uncharacteristically cocky gesture, but both people in the room were well aware he’d been exposed to a bad influence.

Across the table from him, Celegorm folded his arms and arranged the bit of cloth that was all that preserved his modesty.

It was, it had to be said, rather insufficient.

Celebrimbor drank this all in and cocked an eyebrow. “Mad?”

Celegorm drained his goblet, threw down his cards, and uncrossed his legs. “Mad? My gorgeous devil, I have never been more proud.” He wiped his eyes, making a show of sniffing. “You do right by your upbringing.”

“Oh, shut up.” Celebrimbor couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Don’t mention my upbringing when – when you are – ” He put out a hand hastily to keep his own wine from spilling. “ _Uncle._ ”

“What?” Celegorm had kicked himself free of the chair and was reaching across the table, reaching across Celebrimbor’s cards so he could wrap his hands around his nephew’s upper arms and start pulling him over the table. “Let me show you how proud I am.”

“I can see how proud you are.” Celebrimbor cast his eyes downward, and Celegorm growled and dragged at him.

“Have I told you how much I love seeing the one I taught beating me at my own game?”

“You and my father are very different people then,” said Celebrimbor, and immediately regretted it.

But Celegorm just threw back his head and laughed. Having been unsuccessful in pulling Celebrimbor over the table he put his own knee on it and began to crawl towards Celebrimbor. Celebrimbor instinctively looked to the door, but it was locked.

“Put your cards down.”

“The game’s not over,” said Celebrimbor softly.

“Yes, it is. And now I’m giving you your _winnings_.”

Several dozen stone of kinslayer settled into his lap and Celebrimbor dropped his cards.

“What I don’t understand,” said Celebrimbor, when Celegorm let him come up for air, “is why you still have your boots on. It would have been an easy item to shed early on.”

“I like my boots,” said Celegorm, stretching out a well-muscled leg and flexing his calf. Celebrimbor had to admit the bare flesh went very well with the straining leather and immodest loincloth. But –

“I also still don’t understand how you got your pants off while keeping the boots on.”

“I’m very talented,” said Celegorm, and proceeded to demonstrate that this was so, until Celebrimbor accidentally shattered the arm of the chair he was sitting in by clutching it too hard.

They descended to the floor, Celegorm laughing amidst the wreckage, and Celebrimbor hardly caring for the splinters.

“Bed?” he gasped, stretching up for his uncle’s lips.

“Beds are for princelings and housecats,” said Celegorm, biting him.

Celebrimbor squirmed and let out a yelp. “Celegorm, if you want pieces of lumber to pierce me instead of you, by all means let us stay here. But should you _not_ wish me to be impaled upon a spar of wood – ”

“Fine.” Celegorm got to his feet and heaved Celebrimbor up after him. “You know I have distinct ideas on what sorts of wood you’re allowed to be impaled upon – hush, boy, you set it up for me, how was I to resist?” Then he tossed his nephew over his shoulder, eliciting another yelp, and tramped over to the bed to heave him down upon it. “Boots on, arse bare – catch up.”

Celebrimbor wriggled out of his clothes as quickly as he could, but the boots proved a challenge. He finally gave up, his trousers stuck around his ankles, and stared up at Celegorm, who was grinning. “How did you do it?”

“I told you, I am just talented,” said Celegorm, twisting his hair back from his face, and then conceded, “Buttons down the side: one jerk, and they’re free.”

“Ooh,” said Celebrimbor, interested. “How do you make it so the buttonholes pull away without ripping free the buttons? What kind of stitching is used? Do you think some sort of snap mechanism might work better – Or a clinging complementary material, like when a burr sticks to your sock – ”

“Focus,” said Celegorm, in a low growl, and knocked Celebrimbor’s knees open, leaving his trousers bunched around his ankles. He reached between Celebrimbor’s legs, and with that, Celebrimbor’s focus was absolute.

 

* * *

 

It was snowing still – but it could have been hailing sulfur and raining mice and Celebrimbor would not have noticed. His mouth was slack around his panting breaths, his hair matted against the sheet, and the pillow gone to brace beneath his hips. He was whispering nonsense as Celegorm fucked him slowly into the mattress, and even someone who spoke all the tongues of Elves and Beasts could not have deciphered his words.

“It seems you are enjoying yourself,” observed Celegorm. He slowed his thrusts, just rocking lightly, pelvis flush to Celebrimbor’s arse. It was the kind of movement that drove Celebrimbor wild – but was not enough to push him over the edge.

He moaned and dug his fingers into Celegorm’s back and managed to find the word. “ _Uncle_ …”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” Celebrimbor tipped his hips, trying to get Celegorm deeper, the pillow sliding out from beneath him. “Always, I always enjoy myself with you, you know how I - please, Uncle, _please_ , harder…”

“Hmm. No.” Celegorm pulled back and Celebrimbor grabbed for him, pleading in a cracked, betrayed voice that made Celegorm laugh. “No, you are having entirely much fun split open on my cock – I want a turn. Swap places with me.”

“What?” Celebrimbor locked his legs more tightly around Celegorm’s waist. “No, Celegorm, please, I am so close… Let me finish and then, I promise I will take you – ”

Celegorm shook his head. “You have an impressive recovery period, sweet, but you know I don’t have the patience to wait on it. I’ve given you the start, now give me the finish before you’re too far gone for it.” He rolled onto his back, pulling fully out of Celebrimbor.

Celebrimbor bit his lip, holding back a whine. Celegorm smiled at him, and Celebrimbor propped himself on his elbows and looked over at him, his hair falling into his face, his chest heaving. Celegorm arranged himself fetchingly against the snarled blankets and ruined the effect somewhat by showing his teeth.

“Come on, lad,” he said winsomely. “You know you’ll still get there.”

“I know you’re a bastard, is what I know.” But Celebrimbor yielded. He rolled over and found his way between Celegorm’s invitingly open thighs. “I cannot believe your nerve. I won our game, you know.”

“Win, lose, draw,” said Celegorm, pressing his face into the crook of Celebrimbor’s neck and licking the damp skin there. “You know I always cheat.”

“Bastard,” said Celebrimbor again. He pushed into his uncle without preparation and Celegorm groaned under him and drew blood on his neck.

Celebrimbor moved rough and fast at first, giving Celegorm the swift pounding that he liked, that made him curse and sketch gouges into Celebrimbor’s shoulders. Then as Celegorm’s imprecations turned ragged, Celebrimbor slowed. He pressed deep and then stilled, gently moving his hips until he was fully seated within his uncle.

“Tyelpe,” growled Celegorm. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Tyelko,” murmured Celebrimbor. “It serves you right.”

Celegorm surged up to him at that and Celebrimbor feinted back, ending up on his knees with Celegorm riding his lap, driving the movement once again. Celegorm's braid slapped against his back and he whispered words in hunter argot between rasping breaths.

Celebrimbor, in comparison, was the picture of restraint.  

“I think,” said Celebrimbor, his hand on the small of Celegorm’s back, right above the swell of his buttocks, “I think, Uncle, that I found the hart.”

Celegorm spat hair and rutted forward against Celebrimbor's thick, hard stomach. “What?”

“In the card game,” said Celebrimbor. “There is one card that trumps all, and I believe I have found it.”

“What do you – ”

Celebrimbor thrust into him at just such an angle and Celegorm cried out and swore and threw his head back and Celebrimbor laughed and tucked his face against Celegorm’s collarbone.

“That’s not even good innuendo, boy!” gasped Celegorm, throbbing in Celebrimbor’s hand.

“I don’t care.” Celebrimbor laid his hands over Celegorm’s hips and pressed up with an engineer's precision. It was almost instantly effective; Celegorm shuddered around him and came, spilling his seed against Celebrimbor's stomach. His head dropped back, and then forward again, his hair falling loose and hanging into his face. Then his head finally came to rest on Celebrimbor’s shoulder. For once he didn’t bite, simply pressing his lips to the skin.

Celebrimbor held him close, still hard within him. “I have you,” he might have said. If he had been Curufin, he would have said, “I beat you.”

But he was Celebrimbor, and so what he really said, and which Celegorm pretended not to hear, was, “I love you.”

 

\---

\--

-

 

“And how did _you_ pass the time during our wintry internment?”

Curufin scanned the room – the empty, wine-stained goblets, the scattered cards. The broken chair, however, had been carefully chopped up for kindling by the fire and was conspicuous only in its absence. It was hardly an unusual scene for an environment Celegorm occupied for any amount of time. Curufin flicked his eyes at his brother, who was trying to work a snarl from his hair with little success. He gave up at last and lounged back in the window, finally deigning to answer Curufin's question. 

“Games, boredom, drink. Tyelpe has gone too long without learning the rules to Hunt the Hart.” Celegorm yawned. “I took it on myself to educate him.”

Curufin stepped into the spot the missing chair had once occupied and turned his face to his brother, narrowing his eyes against the pale light from the window. It filtered in from the snowy outdoors and faded his hair to near silver. “I trust you didn’t teach him the variation you learned from the hunters.” He pursed his lips. “Or taught the hunters, more like.”

Celegorm laughed, folding his arms behind his head. “Come, brother. What do you take me for?”

It was not until much later that Curufin realized that Celegorm had not actually answered his question.

 

 

 

 


End file.
